heard,
without definition,
without concepts,
by ears stripped of fear.
in sacred nakedness,
rhyming,
the rhythm of breath...
footsteps to stillness,
and a silence,
that has no identity,
that is not owned,
that cannot be captured,
or held...
that just 'is'!
Eric Cockrell
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sounds-for-hune/
